


The Shrieking Shack

by mistrali



Series: Harry Potter, Canon Divergences [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, no time travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-11-15 23:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistrali/pseuds/mistrali
Summary: Harry and Hermione really do run for a teacher when Ron is abducted at the end of PoA.Passages in italics are adapted from PoA.Thanks to DarthKrande for their many fantastic suggestions and a going-over.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve taken liberties with the rules around Portkey creation. Harry has his Map here because Lupin didn’t confiscate it.

_“We’ve got to go for help,“ Hermione cried. She was bleeding too; the Willow had cut her across the shoulder._ “Wait - take out the map. We can see where they’ve gone.” Harry snatched it from his pocket, smoothed it out and scanned it. Ron’s and Black’s dots were disappearing down the tunnel, and with them was... Peter Pettigrew? Harry racked his brains. “Hermione... does that name sound familiar to you?”

She covered her hand with her mouth. “Oh, my God. He’s supposed to be dead, Harry. Remember, we heard McGonagall and Hagrid discussing it at Hogsmeade?”

“Well, the map must be wrong, then,” said Harry, oddly disappointed. He had never known it to steer them wrong before.

They exchanged frightened glances. Hermione’s eyes were wide. “We can’t take on a full-grown wizard and — and whoever else is in there. Not by ourselves!”

“I know,” said Harry testily. “Hang on a minute and let me look at the Map.” He scanned the grounds, the lakeside and the Great Hall and found no teachers, not even Sprout. Of course, they’d all be up at the castle now, in their common rooms. Except Snape, and there was no way he was going to go to that quarter for help.

With a rush of relief he noticed Lupin was closest, still in his classroom on the third floor.

“I’ll go - stay there!” Harry bolted for the main building, faster than he’d ever run from Dudley’s gang. When he burst into the DADA classroom, Lupin looked up, surprised. “Harry,” he started.

“Professor,” Harry gasped. “Black - Black’s taken Ron!”

Lupin stared. “What do you mean, Black’s taken Ron?”

“I mean Sirius Black,” snapped Harry. He took a deep breath. “We were - were following him, and he turned into a dog and dragged Ron into a tunnel under the Whomping Willow. The Map says he’s got someone called Peter Pettigrew helping him. Hermione’s waiting outside the tunnel.” I hope, he thought, mentally crossing his fingers. Yanking the map from his robes, he thrust it under Lupin’s nose.

Lupin glanced at the map, then swore. He threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace, and shouted, “Severus Snape!”

Snape‘s head appeared in the flames. “What is it, Lupin?” he asked. “Do you require a minder to take a simple dose of potion, now?“ His eyes moved beyond Lupin to where Harry was standing. “Ah, Potter, our star Defence pupil. If I have been lucky beyond my wildest dreams and managed to poison Lupin, do be gracious enough to clean up the mess.” Harry grimaced - so much for avoiding Snape.

“Severus,” said Lupin, far more calmly than Harry would have thought possible. “Sirius Black’s taken Ron Weasley to the tunnel under the Whomping Willow. And... he appears to have an accomplice.”

Snape sneered. “Indeed?” he said. “Dear me, what dangerous creatures the headmaster lets in.” In one movement he stepped through the fireplace, wand in hand. He pointed it towards the empty goblet on Lupin’s desk and muttered, “Aguamenti. Portus.” The goblet juddered, glowed and righted itself. “Potter, grab hold of the other end. Lupin, you take the long way.” He smirked.

Harry seized the other end, relieved that the adults were taking over. He couldn‘t have run all the way back to the grounds if he’d wanted to; he felt as though someone had cast Jelly-Legs on him. 

“On three, Potter. One, two, three!” Snape tapped the goblet. There was the feeling of a hook behind his navel and a sickening whirling sensation. Harry felt as though he was being squeezed from all directions, crushed from skull to ankle, as though his brain was about to leak out through his teeth; it was worse even than being Petrified.

As soon as they touched solid ground, Harry’s knees buckled. Dozens of chocolate frogs were doing somersaults in his stomach, he thought — and then disgorged his dinner with gusto into the nearest bush.

He thought he heard a snort from Snape. “Get up, Potter,” he demanded, hauling Harry up by the elbow so that the ground tilted nauseatingly away from him. Snape’s conjured glass of water did nothing to ease his nerves.

While Hermione ran to meet them, Snape Engorged a nearby branch. Then, like lightning, he darted under the tree and used the stick to jab at a knot on the trunk. The tree stilled; Snape emerged, with a cut on his cheek where the Willow had caught it. 

_Harry went first. He crawled forwards, head first, and slid down the earthy slope towards a very long tunnel. They moved as fast as they could, bent almost double. On and on went the passage. All Harry could think of was Ron, and what Black might be doing to him... he was drawing breath in sharp, painful gasps, running at a crouch..._

_And then the tunnel began to rise. Moments later, it twisted and opened out, and Harry pulled himself out of the hole. Snape and Hermione followed, so close that Harry could hear their robes swish._

_They were in a room, a disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was smashed or broken. The windows were all boarded up. A door to the right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway._

_“Lumos,” he whispered. Behind him, Snape and Hermione did the same. Quietly as they could, they crept along the hallway and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide, shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged along it._

_Ron, thought Harry, with a fresh wave of nausea. He crept towards the door, and flung it open. On the floor, clutching his leg, which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ron._

“Expel- “

“Protego!” roared Snape. Ron’s wand flew out of one wizened hand, and Black collapsed to the ground as though he was a puppet whose strings had been cut. Kicking the unconscious man aside, _Snape knelt at Ron’s side and muttered, “Ferula.” Bandages spun up Ron's leg, strapping it tightly to a splint._ Ron moaned in pain; Hermione gave a dry sob and went to kneel beside him. Then there was a light tread on the stair, and Lupin came in. He looked, thought Harry, even more haggard than he had twenty minutes ago.

“Keep back,” cried Hermione. She pointed a trembling wand at Lupin. “Sir, he’s a werewolf!”

“I know that, you idiot girl,” said Snape poisonously, rounding on her. “He is also quiescent thanks to THE POTION I BREWED! Now get out of the way!” She shrank back and glared at him.

Lupin gave her a wan smile. “Professor Snape is right, Hermione. It’s quite safe.” He glanced around the tiny room. “Where is he? Where’s Pettigrew?” Startled - he’d almost forgotten about Pettigrew in all the commotion - Harry dashed to the far wall of the little shack. “He’s not here, Professor,” he said. Lupin went very still. He drew in a long breath, nose actually twitching. Then he walked up to Ron and asked, “Ron, show me your rat.” 


	2. Chapter 2

_Harry had never been part of a stranger procession. A manacled Black shuffled down the stairs, and Snape followed, carefully levitating Ron’s body so that it did not scrape against the roof of the tunnel. Harry came next, and then Hermione behind him, clutching a metal box containing the unconscious Scabbers._ Lupin brought up the rear; Harry could hear his laboured breaths as he limped along.

“Dumbledore’s office,” suggested Lupin, when they cleared the tunnel. He was swaying on his feet, now, and Harry wondered if he would faint. “Professor,” he began, “are you alright?” 

Then the moon came out from behind a cloud.

Fur exploded onto Lupin’s back and chest, then he collapsed onto all fours with a thud. His eyes widened and glowed a brighter amber. Claws burst from his paws, and a tail snapped from his back like a bottlebrush. His nose and mouth lengthened and merged into a muzzle. Two gleaming sets of teeth erupted from his gums. 

The wolf threw back its dark head and howled, high and eerie, at the moon. 

Goosebumps rose on Harry’s arms; it took all his will not to lash out with magic or run full-tilt towards the lit castle. Lupin might not be infectious or savage, but he was still dangerous, and Sirius Black had treated him like an old friend. Besides, the wolf reminded him unpleasantly of Ripper, Aunt Marge’s Alsatian.

Suddenly Lupin bounded towards Harry, so close that he felt hot breath on the backs of his legs. Startled, Harry cried out. But Lupin was running ahead of them all, growling. And then Harry saw them: dozens of hooded figures outside the castle gates, floating not twenty feet away. 

“Don’t hurt us,” said Hermione, shrilly. “W-we’re students. We want to see Albus Dumbledore.”

They ignored her and kept advancing, in neat formation.

They’re here for Sirius, thought Harry, raising his wand and trying not to look at their eyeless faces. One of them reached its triple-jointed fingers towards him. He shrieked and flinched back in disgust.

“Expecto —“ he croaked, teeth chattering from the cold. “Expecto Patronum!” Something white whisked through the air and evaporated. The Dementor faltered, but kept advancing. “Ex-p-pecto P-p...” 

I’m at the Burrow, he thought, picturing it with all his might and main, and they’re having a birthday party for me. That day Mrs Weasley had baked him a massive treacle tart. It was the most presents Harry had ever had, and there had been a strange glint in Ron’s eyes as he gave him a new book, Blood Will Out. Some real nasty jinxes in there for those Muggles, mate, he’d whispered. Harry had started working out how to break the blood wards that very night. They’d all gone flying later that night, near sunset, and the red light had ricocheted off their brooms...

The fog bore down on him; he shuddered, wrapped his free arm around himself, and squeezed his eyes shut. The light was back, shining off the walls of his cupboard and the dent where he’d whacked on the door trying to get out. He was crying quietly, huddling under the thin sheet to stave off nightmares, hugging Dudley’s discarded teddy bear whose stuffing had all leaked out... Uncle Vernon and Dudley were laughing at him for coming home beaten to a pulp... his aunt and uncle were unwrapping beautiful new designer shirts and trousers for Dudley and Primark socks and underwear for Harry.

“Expecto Patronum!” bellowed two voices, almost in unison. Harry opened his eyes. The Patronus shot out of Sirius’ wand, silver-white in the moonlight. It opened its mouth in a soundless snarl, and charged with all four paws towards the hooded forms of the Dementors. Snape’s - was that a doe? - raised her delicate head and high-stepped towards them.

The Dementors stopped and whirled away. Harry froze in place, trying to control both his shivers and his heaving stomach.

“Don’t know what Dumbledore’s playing at,” said Sirius, laughter lacing his words, “A hundred Dementors at a school, Merlin’s sake. Come on, Moony,” he said, so tenderly that Harry wondered uneasily if Lupin really was in league with an escaped criminal. Sirius put his hand on Lupin’s fur as they walked, as though checking he was really there.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time they reached the Headmaster’s office, Harry’s head was throbbing and he felt feverish - unpleasantly hot one minute, shivery the next. He tried to take deep breaths, like Lupin had taught him during their Dementor lessons. Even if Lupin was a traitor, he was a very good teacher. Thinking of Lupin’s soothing voice, though, only made Harry angrier and more confused.

“Mint Yorkies,” said Snape, as crisply as though he’d just taken a stroll down the grounds. The door opened to let them in.

“Severus,” began Dumbledore. Then he seemed to realise there were five more people and a werewolf behind Snape. “Merlin, what’s happened here?” Dumbledore’s low, soft, worried voice filled Harry with relief.

Dumbledore levitated Ron onto a conjured stretcher, then threw a pinch of powder into the Floo. “Hogwarts hospital wing!”

A house elf appeared in the fireplace, dressed in a dark grey sheet that looked a bit like a toga. Harry looked at it in surprise; he hadn’t known there were elves working in the hospital wing, too.

“Pibble,” said Dumbledore, “Would you kindly take Mr Weasley to see Madam Pomfrey? He‘ll need a dose of SkeleGro and perhaps a calming draught.” 

The elf nodded eagerly, brown eyes shining. “Pibble be disappearing Mr Wheezy, Headmaster sir.” Stepping through the Floo, it levitated the stretcher towards itself and snapped its fingers. Both it and Ron vanished with a crack. 

Hermione hurriedly handed Dumbledore the box, telling Dumbledore that a transformed Pettigrew was inside, unconscious. Snape cast Alohomora on it, then followed it with Petrificus Totalus and some complicated charm that made it glow violet. Hermione, Snape and Harry gratefully accepted cups of Honeydukes’ peppermint hot chocolate, and all but collapsed onto the velvet couches Dumbledore had conjured. “Now, then,” he said briskly. “I think a Pensieve is in order. Severus, would you?” 

Snape drank the rest of his chocolate in one gulp. Then he went to Dumbledore’s drawer and pulled out a large stone basin. Harry watched, fascinated, as he put his wand to his own head, drew out a silvery strand of light and deposited it into the basin.

Sirius Black had turned back into a dog and had settled, growling and barking intermittently, next to Lupin. Harry guessed he felt safer that way. 

“Professor Dumbledore,” said Harry, a bit shakily but now feeling much better for the chocolate and the roaring fire. “Is Ron going to be okay?” He knew that wizarding medicine could heal most physical injuries, but his friend had just been kidnapped and knocked out cold.

“Mr Weasley will be fine, Mr Potter,” said Dumbledore, a bit impatiently. “You may visit him when you’re feeling more yourself.”

Harry and Hermione were given instructions to go straight to the hospital wing and see the nurse on duty. 

“But, sir, what about Black and L- and Professor Lupin?” Harry’s temper flared, despite himself. Was that why Lupin had come here, then? Had he planned it all, just to give Dumbledore the slip and help Sirius Black? How dare Lupin lie - how dare he teach him for a whole year, act so nice and caring, and then turn out to be a — a coward?

Dumbledore inclined his head. “Please do not worry yourself, Harry. Everything will be taken care of.”

“And, Miss Granger,” he added, as they were about to head off, “I trust you will not use your privileges to find out what has happened here this evening.”

“Yes, sir - of course,” said Hermione, much to Harry’s mystification. “Good night.”

“Good night, Miss Granger, Mr Potter,” said Dumbledore. “Sleep well.”


End file.
